email from New York Christmas 2000
Ira cracks still in my apartment, which offers since their arrival a spectacle of destruction: The kitchen table has become a combined dressing table with fruit, all over the apartment are underwear, has just acquired skin mini skirts and be nibbled grapes on the floor, and as I noted, we might come to the coffee on the kitchen table to wipe her glasses said, them with a dismissive gesture that would make her gaaar nothing ... The torn curtain, it has but in a spectacular yourself action mounted again, and at night on the slopes is nunmal a bomb, so it has with me free rein. The Curzio, who now sits under the Christmas tree in Ticino, I would have kicked in so much misconduct already '.
I'm afraid it's no secret that I am very proud of all my travels and I am sure that I feel this way when I knew all know and would always clear. But sometimes when I talk to my poor, old, grief-stricken mother, I get the impression that all these Ridiculous traveling circus is completely unnecessary. Apparently, one must only cut down long enough to jump on the sofa, with decent fiction, the mirror and two women's magazines, one in the glossy and the other with cooking recipes, then one also knows all things. She asked me the other day but, as it was now with the holiday season in New York, the Americans would then put all but a red Pappnase and continuously chant "Rudy, the red-nosed raindeer. Do we understand the right: such a comment in public, and I had the eyes as much as possible twisted, "Mammmmmaaaaaa!" I called and all available used facial expressions and gestures to show that other To make as much as I should be ashamed of so much ignorance and bias. But under our Pastor daughters I can admit it: the woman is right!
One of the biggest shocker for me and Curzio, was the Christmas choir at the South Street Seaport, where we were completely innocent schnasseln a beer because it has such a nice view of Brooklyn. Before a three meters high tree-shaped Christmas tree they had there on a ladder up the few seniors who have somehow managed to survive in New York. They all wore red caps and red cardboard noses and sang on and on "Rudy the red-nosed raindeer. Curzio and I have been so worried about the Lord, which is on the Top of the ladder by the choir singing shook, not the beer that we could still enjoy the breathtaking views of Brooklyn. I had to pretty soon leave this place of horror, because I could not stand the sight. I know but even so, what was the fate of these older people: the few that are not in the course of the afternoon singing fell off the ladder, are frozen out. My only small comfort is the certainty that at least it had a warm nose.
Of course, the whole city wild with blinking Christmas lights decorated. Since early December, I was not able to tell me to fight your in the library of the Economics Department, because one has littered the students to the third floor with so many flashing lights that I only dizzy and then immediately bad, once I enter the hall. Each Christmas tree in the city is so overloaded with heavy kitsch angels and giant loops that one is always spellbound in front, waiting every moment of the collapse. At Rockefeller Center, the responsible citizens of this country have set up the superlatives, but the madness of the crown. With a lot of imagination, one can imagine that there is at the Christmas tree to a tall, slim, beautiful fir. But the Americans again had to break a record. Curzio can you the exact number of lights call, which are mounted on the tree. I can only say so much that there are certainly many that one of the tree, nothing, but can see nothing. Her you can not imagine how much I long for the few white candles and red Christmas balls that decorate our tree traditionally in Springe ...
Before I Motzki here capturing the prize for the most thankless visiting from Germany, I must praise the Americans at this point but to the skies. My very most beautiful I had ever Vorweihnachtserlebnis namely here at Avery Fisher Hall at the Messiah Sing-In. This is more than thirty years old tradition from the time when my parents still sit-ins and organize Love-ins, rather than to law school (just kidding!). Each year under the guidance of a renowned choral director at New York's Lincoln Center of the "Messiah" sung by Handel, the recitatives and the chorus of professionals - from the audience. Tip of the course I had my luthier friend Jeanette.
Each choir deposit is managed by a different conductor. A lot of high school music teachers were there, the head of a church choir in Harlem and the "Hallelujah" has conducted the choir director of the Metropolitan Opera. I was of course an inner garden party, when, before the work ever recorded, has practiced with the Americans first "Ha-le-lu-jah" to say instead of "Haee-liiieee-louuu-jaehhh.
However, there was a terrific atmosphere. Everyone but me had a passion for choral singers, who know perfectly with the "Messiah" and catch any application without objection. The conductors was cheered so enthusiastically that every rock star would be pale with envy, and the well-deserved: None of them saved in the introduction of "their" piece with wit and ingenuity to make a feast out of the "Messiah".
course, I pulled again and nothing was running on the only one without notes, but my neighbor was kind enough to let me peep into their score with. Sorry, there was not a steadfast old in my area. After Janine and Matt break piloted me why on an empty seat in front of them, for they had even just a score, but a old in the back, as he would not have to be steadfast. It was found that even I could in the second part singing along properly, and - ah - that was uplifting! Only in the long coloratura I was sometimes lost, so I often times caught a bumpy nudge from behind, because I had forgotten the flip. When the event was over, the choir joined in at leaving the concert hall spontaneously to a Christmas song, and sang on the streets more people. Children I was touched!
Yesterday I was at ND's for Christmas dinner party where I discovered that: 1) Afghan food is unbeatable 2) his wife their doctor's office announced a Philippin (which I know because it has the same accent as Lydia Schmidt in German) 3) his two sons, much younger and more beautiful than I, both black curly, one a fun, open hip-hop, with his tiger tooth chain in Berkeley political science and wants to know anything about economics, and the other is so quiet and reserved, that I do not know more than that about him.
When I stumbled on Central Park West from the subway, I was three and a doorman elevator employees being received (he was about sixty, so I shy away from "boy" to say). From the size of the apartment and the terrace overlooking Manhattan, I conclude that either professor or doctor is a very lucrative job must be in this country. The dinner party was a bit like in Mexico, where all their adult or have not quite grown-up children with you. I think that's actually pretty good. A bit nervous I was just at the thought that the Mexican teenager at the time the National anschmissen after eating their Musi, and chatting in front of their parents turned the living room into a disco. Also I think that's cool, but I would not really know what should I do to have Nd behave as before Tedi Rodriguez, who according to me the tenth tequila invited to dance with him, "tecnico". Thank God were among the ordinary American teenagers who withdrew at some point in order to get a video and not even thought to bring me in such an embarrassing situation. After the party did
Ines and I at Rudy's a dashing, young Indian statistics professor, who whispered to me, first a poem by Heine in his ear, and then praised Hermann Hesse to the skies. He also speaks very good German. Why do you have to actually go to America or accessible only to India in order to experience something beautiful?
told to us later hours with the professor, that the world is divided into three castes (he has "classes" said, but you know what that means for the Indians). Mathematicians are the Brahmins, then come those who understand mathematics or at least have a sense of how much beauty puts it, and the bottom are those who know nothing of mathematics or even gaaaar think this is boring. When we go have lunch sometime soon in honor of an office neighbor, I have decided that interest me too lively for the beauty of mathematics. As a last I want to achieve, that my only success that I carry home from America, it is that I include in the caste system of Indian modern art to the untouchables.
Now I am but stupid and dimwitted typed, even though I have to finish writing a paper until Christmas Eve. I'm a little worried anyway at home, but I know my parents have no difficulty in plaster to the Christmas turkey for two. In addition, Christmas Eve falls unfavorably on a Sunday, that is all the fun of last-minute gift shopping was already null and void, neither would Ursula Hasper in the bookstore at the North Wall wag already with matching gifts, if I be rushing in just before closing time you come, and get excited: "Nici, I think that's something for your mother!", yet I could Bernd Albert meet in the perfumes, and I would Gehring also the watchmaker not to the two-hundredth time, the question of my law school and when I take Mama's practice grudgingly answered with "I'm doing economics". A bit of it fills me with satisfaction that Aunt Liesel this year has no chance of hooking the sneaky with me, then two hours with me the market place up and to run and tell me all the mouths between gossip of the last sixty years. But a little bit I'll even miss the ...
Well anyway, I now write my essay tomorrow Ira and I cook all the grass widower of the city, and I have no doubt that we will have a lot of fun. And Ursula Hasper can schonmal ready: Next year I'll be back!
